


pick you up at seven

by crowleyswahoo



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: 1920's Themed Murder Mystery Dinners, Birthday Presents, Birthday Sex, Cunnilingus, Established Relationship, F/M, Hotel Sex, Multiple Orgasms, Murder Mystery, Overstimulation, Penis In Vagina Sex, Praise Kink, Reader-Insert, Self-Indulgent, Service Top Crowley (Good Omens), it's my x reader and I GET TO PICK THE NICHE SCENARIOS, normally i do not think that demon is capable but it's my birthday and i need this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-31
Updated: 2019-12-31
Packaged: 2021-02-27 12:41:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,874
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22057222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crowleyswahoo/pseuds/crowleyswahoo
Summary: It's your birthday, so Crowley treats you.
Relationships: Crowley (Good Omens)/Reader
Comments: 3
Kudos: 74





	pick you up at seven

**Author's Note:**

> i should warn that although i’ve written fic before, i’ve only ever written x reader in the privacy of my notes app on my phone, so this is the first one i’m putting out into the world. i tried to keep some details vague, so it could apply to a wider range of people, but this is a birthday gift to myself so some of the details are specific to me. sorry to any crowley lovers who can’t relate on some exact aspects
> 
> also, throughout, it’s implied that crowley kinda isn’t as into the reader as the reader is into him. very sorry about that, but I’m really incapable of believing he would like me 
> 
> anyways happy birthday to me and please enjoy

The package had showed up around noon. You’d slept in, and ordered lunch not long after you’d gotten out of bed, and you were sitting on the couch enjoying your food and not worrying about the mortifying ordeal of being perceived, when the doorbell rang for the second time in twenty minutes.

You’d been expecting your food (and had been, in fact, hovering near the door waiting for the delivery man to knock so you could exchange your rehearsed niceties that you inevitably stumbled over), but this wasn’t something you’d planned on, therefore you were immediately wary. You set your food down on the coffee table, wiping your mouth and hands before going to investigate. 

The peephole revealed no one, but just to be certain, you cracked the door open to investigate, leading you to discover a box sitting on the ground in front of your door. You stared down at it, trying not to let your heart hammer in your chest. Today was your birthday, yes, this was true, but you hadn’t exactly been expecting much from your boyfriend. He’d hardly broached the subject, and hadn’t asked about anything in terms of gifts, so you’d left it alone. The box could be from anyone, though; your mom, or your best friend, or... well, no, the options were pretty limited. Still, though, the odds of it containing cookies sent by your friend seemed much higher than it being anything from Crowley. He wasn’t exactly the sentimental type.

You picked it up and brought it inside, setting it on the coffee table and fetching your keys. You tore the tape with them and then flipped open the box; on the very top was a note. You picked it up and unfolded it. It read:

_Pick you up at seven. Wear this._

_A.J. Crowley_

It’s not much of a warm birthday greeting, but you’ll take it. 

You set the card back down, made sure your hands were clean, and pulled whatever it was you were supposed to be wearing out of the box. Your breath caught in your throat as you watched it unfold in your hands; it was a very lovely, [ pale blue dress ](https://wardrobeshop.com/content/layered-nataya-dress-al-10709-blue) made of a soft fabric. The texture was wonderful; as you idly ran your hand across the skirt to feel it, you vaguely wondered how much it cost. 

You took it to your room and hung it up so it didn’t wrinkle, then you sat back down to finish eating. Your food had gone slightly tepid, but it wasn’t enough to warrant a complaint. 

The day trickled by slowly, just as eventful. You got happy birthday messages from several friends, both those you knew in real life and those you’d met online. Your mom called after she got off work, just as you’d gotten out of the shower while getting ready for this mysterious birthday date.

“Any plans for tonight?” she asked.

“Eh,” you told her vaguely. “Anthony has something planned. Got me a dress for it and everything, but I’m not sure what it is.”

That caught her attention. You put the phone on speaker while you finished getting ready, though there weren’t many other details to dish out. 

“Send me pictures,” she instructed you before she hung up.

“Do my best,” you promised, knowing the likelihood of capturing any photo evidence of your boyfriend was dismal.

You took a few photos of yourself in the mirror, though; the dress looked very nice on you, thankfully. It made you feel somewhat better about going out with your vision of a boyfriend, though if this is what he had asked you to wear, you knew he must be dressed up to the nines. 

You ran through your checklist in your head: keys; phone; card; pepper spray. That would be everything you’d need for the evening, at least you hoped so, since you didn’t know what you were in for. You left your apartment and went downstairs, not wanting to leave Crowley waiting when he arrived.

He was already out front of your building, though. And he looked, to put it bluntly, handsome as fuck. He was dressed much nicer than he usually was (which was saying something), clad in a vintage suit complete with a pocket square, and even a hat. You went slightly weak at the knees when you spotted him, absolutely certain he could see the hearts in your eyes even at his distance.

He perked up when he saw you; it was impossible to tell, since he was always wearing his sunglasses, but you liked to think his eyes brightened whenever he saw you. As you approached, a smile spread across his face, and he reached up and took off his hat and— good Lord, his hair was slicked back. Was he trying to kill you?

Before you could remark on how drop dead gorgeous he looked, he beat you to the compliment. “Well, don’t you look stunning?”

“Oh, stop,” you said, waving him off, though you secretly wouldn’t mind if he continued. He wasn’t often generous with compliments, though you suspected that had more to do with his attempts at being aloof than a lack of interest in you. At least, you hoped.

“No, I mean it,” he continued, much to your surprise. He reached out with his free hand so he could take yours and pull you closer. “You look gorgeous. I knew you would, in that.”

You shoved his shoulder lightly, blushing hard. “Quit it.”

He flipped you around, the smile still on his face, and pressed you lightly against the side of the car, pulling you into a kiss. You had to stand on the tips of your toes to kiss him back, and though it was sweet, the way your heart hammered in your chest wasn’t a good feeling.

You broke the kiss. “People can see us...”

“Nobody’s watching, sweetheart, I would know,” he said smoothly, but he backed off anyway. The pet name was a bit of a surprise; you couldn’t recall him using one on you very often. Still, you weren’t going to complain about the sudden usage; it wasn’t exactly like you minded. 

You took another moment to look over him. “You— look very handsome,” you told him awkwardly, unable to articulate it any better than that. 

That wicked grin returned to his face. “Thank you, doll.”

Huh, doll was definitely a new one. But again, you weren’t going to complain about it. You glanced over him one more time; you really wished you had the confidence to ask if he’d like to take a photo. You’d love to be able to look back on this particular outfit of his, plus you didn’t look too bad yourself. You reigned it in, though; he usually wasn’t much for photos, anyway, and you didn’t want to push for anything and risk putting him in a bad mood. 

His free hand lingered on your waist, feeling the fabric, and it made you want to skip whatever he had planned and get to the part of the night that would hopefully contain an orgasm. You kept yourself composed, though. “Should we go? You still haven’t told me what you’ve got planned.”

He hesitated. “S’there anything you’d like to do first?”

You blinked. Well, that was certainly an opportunity, but you’d already made up your mind to be content without any photos. “No. I’m fine. Did you need to do anything?”

He stared at you for a moment. “No,” he said. “You’re sure?”

“Yup,” you said, rocking on your feet a little. “Shall we be on our way?”

Crowley hummed. “I suppose we shall.”

He opened the passenger door for you, which sort of made you want to swoon; you truly loved his car. Every time he offered to drive you somewhere you enjoyed every moment of it, even when he drove recklessly and it frightened you a bit. It was somewhat worth it, though, considering how pretty the car was, and how fetching he looked driving it.

“Are you going to tell me what you have planned, or are you going to keep it a secret all night?” you asked politely as he pulled away from the curb.

“Have the clothes not offered enough of a hint?” he asked; you caught him glancing at you out of the sides of his glasses, and the sight of his eyes made you a bit weak at the knees. It’s a good thing you were already sitting down.

“Come here,” he said suddenly, and you frowned.

“What?” you asked. 

“Come here,” Crowley repeated, nodding his head in his direction. “I know you want to.”

“I don’t follow,” you told him.

He sighed. “Darling—“ that was certainly a new one, “— listen, being a demon comes with a certain skill set, one being that I can sense people's desires. I normally leave yours alone because I don’t want to be intrusive, but it’s your birthday, so I don’t want you to miss out on something because you don’t know how to bring it up. I’m just barely scraping the surface, and I can tell you want to slide over here and have me put my arm around your waist while I’m driving, which honestly isn’t the safest practice, so I’m a little surprised. Either way, you already skipped out on taking a photo with me, so just come here.”

You blinked, processing. “Er— would... you like that, though? You’re not really big on cuddling.”

That was true: Crowley was usually quite put out by the concept of cuddling and only participated a bit reluctantly, so you didn’t tend to ask very often. Snuggling up against his side while he was driving had been a bit of a fantasy of yours since the first time you’d been in his car, but you’d never brought it up because you hadn’t wanted to get on his nerves.

“It’s your birthday,” he reasoned, holding his hand out.

You hesitated to take it. “Well, yeah, but if you’d rather I didn’t, I don’t want to make you participate in something you’re not into just because it’s my birthday.”

“Just come here,” he said, pulling you closer to him. 

You slotted yourself against his side, blushing a bit as he wrapped his arm around your waist. He was warm to sit next to, and his cologne smelled wonderful; you didn’t mind being so close to him, you just worried how he felt about being so close to you. His face didn’t give anything away; it remained perfectly neutral as he drove. Hopefully that meant he didn’t hate it, but it also might have meant he wasn’t enjoying it, either.

It was your birthday, though. And what was one car ride? It wasn’t like you were going to ask him to do it again after this. You leaned against him and tried to relax and enjoy it. You might’ve let yourself drift off into a daydream about how romantic it was if you didn’t think he’d find that silly.

It didn’t take you long to get there; nothing was very far apart in London, it was only the traffic that gave problems, but that was somehow never an issue for Crowley. Parking had never been an issue, either, proven as he found a spot right near the entrance. You scooted away from him, back into the passenger seat as he killed the engine and pocketed his keys.

“Wait there,” he said flatly, throwing open his door and climbing out before shutting it behind him. You were left in the car for one awkward moment of silence before he pulled your door open and held a hand out for you.

“Oh,” you said awkwardly, blushing. You took his hand, grateful for the gesture, but still did your best not to lean any of your weight on him as you climbed out of the car. Once you were standing, he raised your hand and placed a kiss to the back of it, which only made you blush harder and look down at your shoes, flustered. 

He cracked a smile, dropping your hand and shutting the passenger door. “Don’t get too embarrassed, angel, the night’s only started.”

That was easily your favorite pet name by far; his use of it, however sparse, never failed to make your heart beat fast in your chest. 

He began his walk towards the entrance, and you quickly followed behind, trying to match his pace. You had a fleeting thought about how it would be romantic if you could hold his arm, as though he were escorting you, but you quickly pushed it away when you remembered he could check in on your desires. You were comfortable doing whatever he wanted to do tonight; you didn’t want to make him do anything just for your sake. Even if it would make you happy, the chances of it frustrating him were too high for you to feel comfortable asking. You wouldn’t touch an angry _human_ man with a ten foot pole; you wouldn’t know what to do if you made a demon upset with you. Best not to risk it.

Crowley led you inside to the lobby of a hotel, then grabbed you by your shoulders and steered you toward the elevator. 

“Are you ever going to tell me what this is?” you asked, glancing up at him. The hotel setting was somewhat reassuring, and you wouldn't have minded if he’d led you straight up to a room to have his way with you. The only issue was that, despite having eaten earlier, you were a bit peckish again, and the idea of paying for room service wasn’t exactly your favorite thing in the world— the idea of making Crowley pay for it was even less appealing. Still, though, if he took you upstairs, the likelihood of getting an orgasm was pretty high, so you’d be more than willing to go to bed hungry for that.

He didn’t lead you to a room, though; instead, he led you to a ballroom decorated quite extravagantly, full of people milling about as though they were waiting for something to happen.

“Oh,” you said, fairly surprised. “Well, it’s very nice... what it is exactly, though?”

A thin smile graced Crowley’s lips. “It’s your present.”

Your heart skipped a beat; it skipped several, actually. “You put this together?!”

“No,” Crowley said, wrinkling his nose. “That would’ve taken up far too much of my time. It was just a couple little miracles to make sure this was happening tonight and had a theme you would enjoy.”

“Oh,” you said, feeling silly for thinking he’d planned the entire affair. “Well, thank you very much. That means a lot to me.”

“Sure,” he said, looking at you with a slight smile. “Happy birthday.”

“Thank you,” you said again, offering him a genuine smile and trying not to seem insecure about anything during the exchange. “Er— what is it exactly, though?”

He gave a slight roll of his eyes. “It’s one of those murder mystery dinner things you’re so fond of. It’s 1920’s themed— hence, the outfits…”

“Oh!” you said, positively lighting up. “Oh, wow, that’s— er, thank you. That’s… really thoughtful of you.”

“Sure,” Crowley said. “So, would you _like_ to stand in the doorway all evening?”

“Oh, no, sorry,” you said, blushing. “Er— is there assigned seating?”

He led you to a table near the front, even going as far as to pull your chair out for you so you could sit down.

“Oh,” you said, blushing as you sat down. “You really don’t have to do that.”

“You wanted me to,” Crowley retorted, his tone teasing as he sat down next to you.

You blushed harder, rubbing your hands together nervously. “You really don’t have to read my desires.”

“They’re your _desires,”_ Crowley insisted. “It’s your _birthday.”_

“Well, yeah,” you said, “but, I mean, I don’t want you to go out of your way.”

“It’s really not out of my way,” he assured you.

“I just mean you don’t normally— _do_ things like that for me,” you elaborated. “I just… don’t want to trouble you.”

“S’no trouble,” he said. “I’ll be honest with you, angel, your desires _really_ aren’t that difficult to satisfy.”

“Oh,” you said, and part of you wondered if that was the case, why you couldn’t be treated that way all the time, but you quickly pushed that thought away for fear of being selfish. “Well— thank you. It means a lot that you’re, er, indulging me.”

“So you said,” Crowley said, his tone a bit bored, so you bit the inside of your cheek and decided to stay quiet. 

Another couple came to sit with the two of you, two young women who looked to be about your age. You struck up a bit of a conversation with them, but Crowley neglected to comment for the most part. Dinner was served, and you were pleasantly surprised to find that it was a dish you actually liked; normally when you came to events like this, they served something you weren’t very fond of that tasted like chalk. You suspected Crowley and his miracles might’ve had a hand in that, but you neglected to bring it up in the presence of company.

Towards the end of the meal, the lights dimmed, and people in costumes you’d seen milling about since you’d arrived walked up onto the stage. The show was entertaining; the actors were good and the story was interesting, just well enough written that you had a hint of where it was going but were also pleasantly surprised by the ending. Afterwards, you and Crowley had both long since finished your food, and as soon as the couple seated with you had gone up to go out on the dance floor, Crowley looked at you pointedly. Or at least, as pointedly as he could with his sunglasses on.

“Do you want to dance?” he asked, and you couldn’t really deny how the offer made you want to melt into your chair. 

You offered him a shy smile. “I would love to, yes.”

He stood up, holding a hand out to take yours, and once you were out of your chair he led you across the room and out to the dance floor. The two of you stayed on the outskirts; he kept your hand in his and laid his other one on your waist, pulling you closer. You put your free hand on his upper arm, and the two of you swayed back and forth to the slow jazz that filled the air. It wasn’t the most formal dance, but in your opinion, it was very romantic. 

As one song faded into the next, you decided to try something. Without asking, you stepped closer and rested your head on his chest, shutting your eyes and listening to the beat of his heart against your ear. Normally, you wouldn’t ever do something so clingy without spending weeks working up the nerve to ask if it was okay; Crowley valued his personal space very much, and as much as physical touch was your love language, you never wanted to be a bother. But it was your birthday, and it was one dance, and you wanted to be close to him, so you hoped it wouldn’t kill him to indulge you.

As the next song finished, he leaned down to whisper in your ear, “You know— I did reserve a room. If you’re interested.”

You couldn’t help the shiver that ran through you at that. You opened your eyes, looking up at him in a way you hoped was sultry and not terribly awkward. “I’m very interested.”

The corners of his mouth quirked up in the slightest smile. Still holding your hand, he led you away from the party, back through the lobby towards the elevators. He didn’t drop your hand while you waited for one to arrive; the small, juvenile gesture of affection made your heart drum in your ears. You rubbed a heart on his skin with your thumb. 

The elevator was empty when it arrived. Inside, as soon as the doors were shut, he dragged you closer, intent on kissing you. You put a hand over his mouth, surprising him.

“Take your glasses off,” you insisted. “If you’re going to kiss me in public, I want to see your eyes.”

He seemed mildly disgruntled by this, and you almost retracted the demand, but he reached up and took his glasses off without any protest. He looked back down at you with those gorgeous yellow eyes, and it took all your self control not to swoon.

He took your wrist, gently guiding your hand away from his mouth, before placing a kiss on the sensitive skin on your inner wrist. That time you really did swoon.

The elevator stopped and the doors opened. Crowley took your hand again and led you down the hallway. He stopped at one of the doors, letting go of your hand to search his pockets for the keycard. Impulsively, you leaned forward and wrapped your arms around him from behind. 

He paused, letting out a short laugh. “Clingy.”

You let go, even though you didn’t want to. “Sorry.”

He didn’t respond, producing the keycard and unlocking the door. Once you were both inside, he shut the door and didn’t bother turning on the light. You hesitated, looking around in the darkness; as far as you could tell, it was the nicest hotel room you’d ever stayed in.

You glanced back at Crowley over your shoulder, offering him a sheepish smile. “I don’t have anything to take my makeup off,” you admitted. It felt like a silly thing to say.

He didn’t answer, just snapped his fingers. Your face immediately felt lighter, the weight of what you’d been wearing on it lifted away. 

You blushed. “Thank you,” you said, caught between the relief of how it felt to have a clean face and the embarrassment that came of being seen without makeup on. His gaze didn’t waver, though; you hoped that was because he found you just as pretty with makeup as without, and not because he didn’t find you attractive either way. 

Crowley watched you unblinking; perhaps you should have found it unsettling, but it was the exact opposite. You thought him unbearably handsome, and you wanted him to push you down on the bed and touch you everywhere. 

You waited for him to make the first move; to say something or to reach forward and touch you or to just do anything, really. You had half a mind to ask him what he wanted to do now, or just to wander closer and kiss him yourself, but you worried about making assumptions. For all you knew, he could sit you down on the bed and tell you he wanted to play a card game.

He didn’t do that, though, thankfully. Instead, he didn’t move forward, but he did say, “I knew you’d look nice in that dress.”

“Thank you,” you said reflexively, a blush tinging your cheeks. “I hope it didn’t cost you too much. I can pay you back, if it did. Or if it didn’t. Either way I can pay you back.”

“It’s fine,” he said. His eyes moved up and down your body, and you couldn’t help but blush harder. You wondered what he saw.

“I think it’s true you look very nice in that dress,” Crowley said, his eyes still roaming over you. “But I’d personally like to see what you look like out of it.”

The blush that spread all the way down your neck couldn’t really be helped, although you doubted it was a very flattering look on you. You looked down at your shoes for half a moment, before looking back up at him in an attempt to squeeze some confidence out.

“Would you mind taking your blazer off?” you asked quietly. “I don’t want to feel like I’m the only one undressing.”

He unbuttoned his blazer and shrugged it off his shoulders, revealing the fact that he was wearing suspenders, which made you want to yank him into a kiss and let him take you right then and there. You restrained yourself, though; instead, you stepped closer to him so you could toe your shoes off near the door. He watched you the entire time, before following your lead, leaving you barefoot and him only in his socks.

You cleared your throat, turning to face away from him. “Could you, er, undo the back for me?”

He didn’t answer, just began unraveling the messy job you’d done of the ties. He pulled them undone, loosening the dress, before stepping closer, nearly pressing himself against your back and placing his hands on your shoulders, picking at the fabric.

“I don’t think it comes off like that,” you pointed out quietly.

“Sure it does,” he said in a low voice; sure enough, when he pushed the fabric off your shoulders, it didn’t protest. The top of the dress slid down and pooled around your waist. You shyly took your hands out of the sleeves; but before he could say anything, he reached around and cupped your left breast in his hand (or, well, there wasn’t much for him to cup in his hand, but he did his best). You tried not to melt completely into his arms.

“You’re not wearing a bra,” he said in your ear, clearly amused. “That’s not like you.”

You swallowed; you wish you’d have thought of something sexy to say, because all you could think to respond with was, “You would’ve been able to see it in the back.”

He chuckled, rubbing his thumb over your nipple. You were really struggling to continue standing now; the bed seemed so alluring. Crowley pressed a kiss to your neck, and you turned the moan that bubbled up in your throat into a hum, leaning back against him. 

“Would you take me to bed?” you asked breathlessly. “Please?”

He pushed the rest of the dress off of you; it landed in a pile of soft blue fabric around your feet. He grabbed you by your hips and spun you around, yanking you up into a kiss. You moaned, and he immediately used it as an opportunity to press his tongue into your mouth. You eagerly kissed him back, your hands fisted into the fabric of his shirt sleeves. 

He pushed you back towards the bed, unwilling to break the kiss; you didn’t really want him to. He only broke away when you reached the bed, taking a moment to push you down onto the mattress. Instinctively, you curled in on yourself, trying to hide, considering you were practically naked and he was still fully clothed. He followed you down onto the bed, though; pressed a quick kiss to your lips before he spread you out on the bed, pinning your wrists down above your head.

You swallowed nervously. “This hardly seems fair.”

He cracked a smile. “How so?”

“Well, for starters, you’re wearing much more clothes than me,” you pointed out nervously.

“Hm,” he said, leaning in close and pressing kisses against your jaw. “I think you like seeing me dressed up like this, though.”

He pulled away to look at your face, a teasing glimmer in his eyes. “Am I wrong?”

You hesitated, embarrassed. “No,” you admitted. “You’re not wrong…”

“You like the fact that I’m all dressed up,” he teased, baring his teeth in a smile. “You like that I’m wearing suspenders and I slicked my hair back. You’re getting off over the fact that I put on a vintage suit for you.”

“And?” you asked defensively, a blush rising on your cheeks. “You look quite nice.”

He leans down so he can whisper in your ear. “I doubt you’d have any objections to me just pulling my cock out of my trousers and fucking you like this.”

You shivered; he pressed a kiss to the skin below your ear, and you could feel the smile on his lips against your skin. “Well,” you said, picking your words carefully, “for one thing I’d worry you’d overheat. And for another I don’t think I’m very wet, yet, so it would be quite painful for the receiving party.”

He chuckled, continuing to nose at your neck. “Well, I tend to run cold,” he said, and his breath against your skin made you wish he would hurry up and touch you, “but I suspect I can do something to remedy that second concern.”

He pulled back, leaning over you, still pinning your wrists down as he offered you a smile. “Any requests?”

You blushed harder than you already were. “You’ve been reading my desires all night and _now_ you’re asking?”

“Just checking to see if you really would like me to eat you out until you cry,” Crowley said, a sly grin on his face. “Does that sound favorable to you, darling?”

You shut your eyes. “If you’d like.”

“Oh, you know I’d like,” he said in a low voice, letting go of your wrists to pull you up closer to him. “I happen to be very talented with my mouth.”

You smiled shyly. “I’m not sure I believe you— would you mind giving me a demonstration?”

He dragged you into a kiss, pushing you back down onto the mattress. The two of you stayed like that for several moments, until he finally broke away and began kissing down your neck. You sighed, reaching up and running a hand through his hair as he paused over your chest. 

“Would you like a preview before we get to the main event?” he asked, pressing a kiss to the space between your breasts.

You repressed a shiver. “Sure…”

He made a rather eager noise, shifting slightly so he could press a single kiss to your breast before taking the nipple in his mouth. You squeaked— there was no other way to describe the noise. He hummed, doing something very complicated with his tongue, using his hand to fondle your other breast. He pinched your nipple rather hard, and you made another noise similar to the first, only this one was remarkably less positive. Before you could stop yourself, you grabbed his wrist.

He paused. “Yes?”

You swallowed nervously. “Er— could you… be a touch more gentle? If at all possible?”

“Oh,” he said. He hesitated, then shifted again. “I’m sorry, did I hurt you? Do you want me to kiss it better?”

You blushed as he did exactly that, repeating the same devilish trick with his tongue as he did so. You couldn’t help the giggle that escaped as you let your head fall back. 

After a moment, he pulled away and inched down, making quick work of pulling your panties off. You were slightly disappointed by his lack of comment— they were, in your opinion, very nice looking on you— but you didn’t have time to dwell on it because Crowley apparently wasn’t beating around the bush. He leaned in and pressed a kiss to your clit before opening his mouth to properly suck on it.

You couldn’t stop the way your hips jerked in response as you gasped; you hadn’t been expecting him to start so quickly. He paused, pushing your legs further apart before placing his hands firmly on your hips to hold you down against the bed.

“Just hold still,” he said in a low voice. “Just hold still and let me take care of you.”

He licked a broad stripe up your cunt, then, before settling back on your clit and sucking hard. His grip made it impossible for you to cant your hips up like you wanted to, but you didn't mind as long as he kept touching you like _that._ He ate you out like a starving man, doing things with his tongue you were certain nobody but demons with experience being snakes could do. When he wasn’t working your clit, he fucked into you with his tongue, refusing to use his fingers on you until you were sufficiently wet. 

“ _Crowley_ ,” you gasped, fisting your hands in the sheets to stop yourself from grabbing his hair and pulling hard. “Oh— _God…_ ”

Crowley paused for just a moment, which made you want to scream. “Let’s keep Him out of this, shall we?” he asked, not giving you a chance to answer before getting back to work.

You were approaching the edge faster than you’d expected to, and Crowley didn’t seem like he was in the mood to tease. He brought you to the brink, then pushed you over hard, not bothering to stop as you shuddered through your orgasm. 

“Crowley,” you said weakly, once the aftershocks had gone and he was still going. “I— I came…”

“Yes, I know,” he said, stopping briefly only for his comment and to shift so he could slip two fingers into you. “I believe we agreed on _until you cry_.”

He picked up right where he left off, and didn’t take the time to pause as he pulled you over the edge two— three— four more times. You were struggling not to start writhing, whimpering as he worked your oversensitive clit. 

“A— _ah!_ ” you whined, squirming underneath his grip. “Crowley it— _fuck— please…_ ”

He glanced up at you, stopping for the first time in what felt like ages; you welcomed the reprieve, trying to catch your breath. He rubbed your hip with his thumb. “Are those tears in your eyes, angel?”

You shut your eyes, and the tears forming in the corners of your eyes managed to escape, dripping down your face. He cooed, taking his fingers out of you gently and crawling back up to drape himself over you.

He wiped the tears off your face. “Good girl,” he said in a low voice, and you made a weak noise in the back of your throat at the praise. He smiled wickedly. “You like that, don’t you?” he asked, leaning in to kiss you on the lips. “Are you a good girl?”

You whimpered, and he kissed you again. “You are,” he said, shifting so he could kiss your neck. “You’re such a good girl— _my_ good girl. You did so good…”

He reached down between your legs and rubbed at your oversensitive clit, making you jerk in surprise. “I know,” he said sweetly in your ear. “Do you think you can do one more?”

He pulled back so he could look you in the eye. “Do you want me to fuck you?”

You swallowed. “Yes,” you said breathlessly, reaching up with shaky hands to undo the buttons of his shirt. He caught on quickly, pushing his suspenders off his shoulders and undoing his tie hastily, before reaching down to unbutton his slacks. You untucked his now unbuttoned shirt and he grinned slyly, taking your wrists and pinning them back above your head.

“You don’t want me completely undressed,” he said confidently. “You _really_ like me in this suit, huh?”

“You look sexy,” you argued quietly.

He smiled, sweeter this time, and leaned in to give you a quick kiss before asking, “How do you want me, angel?”

You swallowed, squirming a bit under his gaze. “I— think you know…”

“Oh, I do,” Crowley says smugly. “But I’d like to hear you say it. Tell me how badly you want my cock, sweetheart.”

“So badly,” you said in a quiet voice. “Please fuck me…”

He let go of your wrists, reaching down to pull his trousers and briefs off. You sat up slightly as he did so, admittedly because you wanted to get a good look at his cock. It was half hard, and you bit the inside of your cheek at the thought of him pulling you closer and fucking your oversensitive cunt. 

He didn’t miss the fact that you were looking as he discarded his pants off the edge of the bed. “Like what you see?”

“Yes, always,” you admitted earnestly. “You still have your socks on.”

Crowley glanced at his feet. “Read somewhere that wearing socks gives you better orgasms.”

You made a face. “Well, they’re not very sexy.”

“I didn’t realize you were going to be looking at my feet while I fucked you,” he teased.

“I’m not,” you insisted. “But I don’t think it’s fair if you get to wear socks and I don’t.”

He raised his eyebrows. “I just jerked you off five times.”

“Not my point.”

“Yeah, okay, sure,” he said, leaning forward to give you several more kisses in rapid succession. He took your hand in his and guided it to his cock, allowing you to gently wrap your fingers around it and stroke him to full hardness. He made bitten off little noises into the kisses, which you would eagerly admit were incredibly endearing. You wouldn’t mind hearing more of them.

He pulled away from the kisses and pushed your hand away, dragging your closer with a firm grip on your hips. He took his cock in his hand, before leaning forward and pressing into you. The breathy little noise he made was almost drowned out by your whine, but you still heard it and loved it and wanted more.

“ _Fuck_ ,” he said hoarsely as he bottomed out; admittedly, you were experiencing a similar train of thought without much more coherant commentary to offer. It felt positively divine to have him fully sheathed inside of you.

“I love your cock…” you managed to bite out in a quiet voice. 

He groaned at the admission, rocking forward slightly. “Oh, yeah?” he asked, his voice gone rough and _God_ the only thing in the entire world you wanted was for him to fuck you right that second.

He pulled out slightly before leaning back into you; he was establishing a rhythm, albeit a slow one. “Tell me more,” he insisted. “How much do you love my cock?”

“So much,” you told him immediately, breathless. “Love it so much. Think about it— _ah_ !— all the time… _harder_.”

He obliged, fucking into you harder. “Good girl,” he groaned out, and you whimpered. “Such a good girl— _fuck— my_ good girl…”

“Yours,” you moaned eagerly. “Yours— yours— only yours—”

“Only mine,” he echoed, pulling you closer and fucking into you harder. “Take my cock so well— such a good girl…”

“ _Yes_ ,” you agreed breathlessly. “Please— _please_ don’t stop—”

He shifted, reaching down between the two of you to rub your clit; you jerked, crying out. It felt dangerously good, but it also stung, and you weren’t sure if you wanted to lean further into it or squirm away.

“Are you gonna come for me?” he asked, and you whined. “You can come for me— you can do it one more time—”

“You first,” you gasped.

He moaned. “Want me to come inside of you?”

“ _Yes!_ ” you insisted, fisting your hands in the fabric of his shirt. “ _Please!_ ”

His hips stuttered and then stilled; he groaned, dragging you as close as he possibly could as he came inside you. He held you there for a moment, breathing hard and clearly trying to keep himself composed, before pulling out and gently resuming rubbing your clit.

“Come for me,” he instructed breathlessly. “Please, angel, just one more time.”

You came with a whine, canting your hips up as he rubbed your oversensitive clit until you shuddered and sank back down into the mattress, a fresh trail of tears streaking down your cheeks. He withdrew his hand; you blinked, and it was miraculously dry, but you didn’t have time to contemplate it as he crept back up the bed to lay down next to you.

He wrapped an arm around your waist, dragging you closer, which you were thankful for. You loved sex with Crowley, and you especially loved the quiet aftermath of it, as well, but you sort of hated saying the words _can we cuddle_. It sounded silly when it came out of your mouth and he always rolled his eyes a little at the request. Even though he always obliged, he acted put out by it, which never sat well with you. But tonight, he was willingly initiating, so you hoped that wouldn’t be an issue.

He leaned in close and pressed a kiss to your jaw. “Happy birthday.”

“Thank you,” you said sleepily, clinging to him. “Can we— can we pull the duvet—?”

He barely moved his hand to snap his fingers, and the two of you were suddenly under the blanket together. It was slightly warm, too, as though it had just come out of the dryer, which was a small touch you appreciated. You rolled over so you could wrap your arms around his torso.

“Thanks,” you said, struggling to stay awake. “And thank you for… for the birthday present…”

“Mhm,” he hummed. “Going to sleep now?”

“Yeah,” you said, shutting your eyes. “Sorry…”

He made a noncommittal noise. “See you in the morning.”

You sighed happily, relaxing fully. The two of you had never said I love you, and he certainly wasn’t very sentimental, but you were thankful for the promise that he would be there when you woke up, for at least one more day.

**Author's Note:**

> yes if you can't tell i'm a virgin so go easy on me ya?


End file.
